The Help
by bowielegacy
Summary: 3 yrs post HPDH, ignored epilogue. Info is needed regarding missing DeathEaters, Hermione works undercover for Draco. They're faced with death, betrayal, and could it be love? "If you love me then you'll stop hurting yourself." Disclaimer: Don't own HP
1. Chapter 1: Sides

**Chapter One: Sides**

Draco Malfoy glowered at himself in his bathroom mirror. He fingered at his bleach-blonde hair, mentally deciding to grow it out over the summer. He supposed that he could use a spell to grow it out, but he didn't feel like putting in the effort. Grown out hair would definitely change his image. That's what would kick him into a get-off-your-fucking-ass mode.

But probably not.

He straightened up and smoothed out his robes, made by an up-and-coming robe designer, of course. He didn't even need to wear robes, but the made him feel important. As long as he felt important, he had no reason to try to be anything else.

Draco pulled out his wand and made various menacing poses, looking in the mirror. There was a soft knock on the door and he immediately straightened up, tucking his wand back into his robes.

"Draco?" His mother's voice drifted through the door. She had a nasal voice that grated on your nerves the more you listened to it.

"Yes, mother?" He asked, inspecting his teeth in the mirror. Flawless, of course.

"Are you okay? What are you doing in there?" Her voice was grating down on Draco's patience. After twenty years of listening to it, he could barely stand three-minute conversations with her.

"What do you think?" He asked, rubbing his jaw. He should probably shave soon, but that would require effort. So, he could wait longer. It had only been three days. "What else is there to do in the bathroom?"

"Well, you're taking a while." She sounded annoyed now. Just brilliant. Her voice got even worse when _she_ was annoyed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of using the toilet by myself, Mother."

He heard her high-heeled footsteps clacking away. He sighed in relief and stepped outside, breathing in the clipped and refined smell. Home, sweet home. After standing there for a moment, he wandered to the hall of pictures. After walking past all the boring people in his ancestry, he reached his father. Lucius Malfoy glared down at Draco.

"What are you looking at, Draco?" Lucius snapped.

"What are you glaring down at, Father?"

Lucius scoffed. "Touché. Tell me, why do you always wonder here to talk to me?"

Draco sighed. "Because being by yourself gets tiring after a while."

"You still have your mother."

"Yes, Father, but she gets so tiring after awhile. I honestly wish that she was the one who died and that you survived. At least we have something in common."

Lucius looked down at his son skeptically. "To be honest, son, I wish you took after her more. She has a kinder, gentler heart."

"Yes, father, but a kind and gentle heart didn't get you high in the Ministry or in the Dark Lord's mind. You got where you were because of your cunning and deceitful heart."

Lucius didn't even blink at the comment. "Yeah, son. But it also got me where I am now. Dead."

"Goodbye, Father," Draco said, rolling his eyes, and slinking away. He could tell that his father was in a lecturing mood. He walked through the maze of his house until reaching his desired point. He descended down a stairwell into one of his living rooms. _Shit,_ he thought as he saw his mother waiting expectantly on one of the leather couches. Out of all of the living rooms in the house she had to be in the one he wandered into?

"Draco, we need to talk."

"I'm starving. Where's Matilda?"

Narcissa sighed dramatically. _What a diva,_ he thought to himself. Not that he wasn't rude and demanding; he just liked to think of others badly. "You can't just keep avoiding the subject-"

"I can do whatever the hell I want," He snapped, rolling his eyes. "Now, my question. Where is Matilda? I want a fucking sandwich. I'm _starving._"

"Language, Draco," His mother sighed, rubbing her temples like he was giving her a headache. "It's unhealthy to just avoid the subject Draco. I've been patient, but-"

"Jesus Christ. I'll just go find the witch myself."

He started to leave, but he was rudely interrupted by his mother's voice. "She quit, Draco."

He turned around. "Huh. She lasted a whole month this time. Why did she quit? Did your annoying voice finally get to her?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes and ignored her son's ungrateful comment. She turned and looked at herself in one of the mirrors, adjusting her dress. "Well, for starters, you are a slob. Seriously, Draco. A toothbrush just randomly floats in your toilet?"

He didn't use his toilet, he used another, so he didn't care about it. He had dropped it in there once, and he hadn't felt like taking it out. Now it was just too gross to get out. "Is that not normal?"

"Draco! That's just gross hygiene."

"You're the one rubbing God-knows-what all over your face. Seriously, why do girls do that? It just makes them look even more pathetic."

"_Secondly_,you apparently always cussed her out?"

"She would touch my stuff."

"That was her _job_, Draco. Since your father got rid of our house-elf, we have to hire people to _clean_ and cook everything. That includes _your _stuff, too."

"She believed that Mudbloods were equal to us," Draco added, raising his chin.

"At least she wasn't one herself. But, in our state, I wouldn't deny a Mudblood from working here," Narcissa added, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at her son. She of all people was the most surprised when her son dropped out of society and never left the manor. "Thirdly, you never leave."

"Never leave what? My clothes in the hamper?"

"You never leave the manor! You always lurk about! You're officially a widow, Draco. It's been three years-"

"Shut up, Mother! Just shut up-"

"Draco! The Dark Lord lost! He's dead! You're father got murdered during the war! Harry Potter won! But, Draco, _you_ got off the hook. You should be living! You should-"

"I should what? Get drunk every night? Rape some sorry prostitutes? Gamble away all of our money-"

"Anything's better than just sitting in your room, staring at the wall or talking to your father's painting. I _know_ you do that, Draco."

Draco's snide comeback was interrupted by another booming voice from the hallway. "What's going on in here?"

"Oh fucking joy. Step-shit's returned. I thought he left for good this time," Draco grumbled.

A tall figure stepped in from the hallway. "Shut your sorry-ass mouth, boy. I own you two, and I'm never gonna leave." Draco rolled his eyes, not pointing out that he did just that at least once a week.

Narcissa winced. "Now isn't a good time, Oliver."

"It's a good time when I say it's a good time, Narcissa!" Oliver boomed, slurring his words together. He was obviously drunk, but that always made him more vicious.

"Looks like this dickhead's gone and gotten himself drunk!" Draco exclaimed, pointing a finger in Oliver's face.

"Draco, language. Please. Oliver, how about you just go lie down."

"I don't want to. I want to beat the shit out of your ungrateful son."

Narcissa put a restraining hand on his chest. "Please, don't-"

"Don't defend the little bastard!" Oliver growled, whipping the back of his hand across Narcissa's face.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF MY MOTHER!" Draco pulled his wand out and aimed it at Oliver's throat, breathing deeply. He may wish his father was in her place, but _no one_ hurt his mother.

"Draco, go to bed. Just please, go to bed," Narcissa murmured, bringing herself to stand between the two red faced men. When Draco didn't move, she gave him a harsh look. "Draco."

"He'll kill you mother. I swear it, he will kill you someday. And you'll let him. At least Father treated you right." With that, Draco strolled away, feeling the anger pump in his throat. When he made it to his room he slammed the door as hard as he could, but he doubted his mother and her beast of a husband could hear it.

Angrily, he rummaged through his sock drawer, looking intently. He sighed in relief when he found what he wanted.

An old razorblade.

Leaning against the wall, he held his wrists up to his face. They were covered in scars. He shrugged off his robes and shirt, then stood up and looked at himself in a mirror. His chest was covered in scars, too. He found a clear spot on his right wrist and gripped the blade in his left hand. Without hesitancy, he slid the blade across his flesh in practiced grace, exhaling in relief as he felt the burn.

He sat on the floor, closing his eyes and smiling from the high the pain gave him. He never cut deep enough to really cause himself any danger, although he had considered it once or twice. Ever since that terrible night three years ago, he'd slit his skin whenever his mother's husband made him want to kill something. Frankly, he cut himself whenever _anything_ made him want to kill something.

He had a lot of scars and a major anger issue.

But he didn't care. It's not like he left the house to take it out on anyone or anything. Though, he thought it might have been funny to watch their terrified faces.

His stomach grumbled and he remembered the absence of Matilda, and, most importantly, his sandwich. "I DIDN'T GET THE FUCKING SANDWICH," He shouted to no one in particular.

When the expected silence came, he swore under his breath. "_Accio Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans,_" He murmured, smiling greedily when the package flew from under his bed and into his lap. The sting from his cut was still burning, and he had candy. His head buzzed with happiness.

He bit into a jellybean, and then spit it out immediately. "Ash," He murmured to himself. Again he bit into another jellybean, spitting it out. "Soap." The next half hour passed with him biting into the jellybeans and muttering their flavors. He had been doing this almost everyday for the past three years, and he had yet to get the same flavor.

Sighing, he looked at his watch. Five-thirty. Brilliant. Sighing, he climbed into bed, kicking off his shoes. His sleeping pattern had been screwed up for a while, and he found himself falling asleep at various hours in the day. At least this night was closer to normal than usual.

Draco glared at the ceiling, trying not to think of his pathetic life but failing miserably. He wondered what his classmates would think if they knew he had widowed himself into his own manor. Or if they knew he talked to his father's painting to keep himself company. Or if they knew that he had an abusive stepfather that beat his mother.

"Kill me," He muttered to himself, then rolled over in bed, falling into restless sleep.

Hermione Granger scurried around her office, trying to look for a certain piece of parchment. "Where is it?" She muttered to herself, digging through her desk, overturning inkbottles and knocking parchment on the floor. "I know I had it somewhere…."

"Are you looking for this?" A voice from the hallway called. She looked up, spotting Ron in a pair of purple-checkered boxers holding a piece of parchment, wearing a sly grin on his face. She smiled in relief.

"Thank you, Ron." She smiled, walking around her desk and retrieving the paper from him.

"Anything for you," He murmured. Thankfully, she had been putting the parchment in her briefcase and he hadn't seen the repulsion in her face. Ron had been a nice childhood crush, but that's all he would ever be. And, as little as she would like to admit it; she found his company rather dull. Unfortunately, Ron didn't have his own place, so Hermione let him use a spare bedroom, which morphed into making a complete pigsty out of her whole house. Recently, though, it had become obvious that he wanted more than just a spare bedroom and a messy house.

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she looked at her watch. "I'm going to be late!" She exclaimed, rushing to her chimney. Automatically, she reached to the top right corner of her bookshelf, but found an absence of her floo jar. "Oh no! This can't be happening!" She set her suitcase down and looked around the room. "Ron, where did you put my floo jar? You used it last."

"Well, it was empty," He replied absently.

She turned around facing him, only to find he had been staring at her butt. "Ronald, what happened after it was empty?" She asked agitatedly.

"I refilled it on the kitchen counter."

Hermione scrambled and found the floo jar indeed on the kitchen counter. "Ronald, we have to talk about the cleanliness of my house after I get back."

"You're going to be late. Have a nice day," Ron murmured leaning in. Hermione realized what he was trying to do and turned her head, letting his kiss fall on her cheek.

"Bye, Ron," She called over her shoulder. "The Ministry," She announced, then walked into fireplace. After stumbling into the Ministry chimneys, she scurried toward the elevator.

She saw that she was in luck as the doors opened. "Harry!" She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a friendly bear hug.

"Hello, Hermione," He chuckled, returning her hug graciously. If one thing hadn't changed over the years, it was her sisterly instinct for Harry.

"You're back from America. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I wanted to keep it a surprise," Harry answered sheepishly.

The elevator's voice announced her stop. "Oh, this is me. I'm visiting Kingsley. He says he has a new assignment for me."

"Good luck! We'll catch up later," He called, and she practically ran down the hallway, stopping at the Minister's door.

She softly knocked, then opened the door. Kingsley was leaning back in his chair and watching a basketball game. He was one of the only wizards she knew who was familiar with muggle electronics. He spotted her and smiled. "Hermione," He greeted warmly, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit."

"Good morning, Minister. I hope all is well."

Kingsley laughed. "All is well, now that all that worry of Voldemort returning is gone. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kingsley?"

Hermione smiled, opening her briefcase. "Sir, I did as you asked, and made a list of all of the known Death Eater families." She handed it to him and nervously watched as he reviewed the list.

"It's smaller than I thought it would be."

Hermione cringed at his obvious disappointment. "Well, see, it's only a list of the _known_-"

Kingsley chuckled. "I'm aware, Hermione. This is a very good list, and we'll be able to use it and survey the families. Thank you."

Hermione smiled, relieved. "You said something about a new assignment?"

Kinsley nodded. "Ah, yes. We've rounded up all the surviving Death Eaters, and they are where they should be- rotting in cells. All except one."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, confused. "Who is this person?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Hermione groaned heavily. Memories of being bullied and called a Mudblood filled her head, but she quickly shoved them away. "So do you want me to catch him?" She asked, wondering if this was her mission. It would be easy enough. Her Auror training had made her an even better witch and she would be able to overpower him easily.

"No," Kingsley replied, surprising Hermione. "Draco Malfoy has been widowed in his Manor since The War, and has posed no threat."

"You're certainly not saying that you're going to overlook what he has done-"

"Of course not. But, maybe instead of going to Azkaban, he could give us information on the unknown Death Eaters still in hiding."

"I remember Malfoy, sir, and I know that he would rather go to Azkaban then help the Ministry."

"I'm aware. But, let's go, as the muggles call it, _undercover_." Kinglsey said, chuckling. "We need that information, Hermione, and he's the only one who can give it to us. And, since you pointed out, he won't tell us, then we'll simply have to figure out a way to get it out of him."

"How are we going to get an Auror undercover into the Manor?" Hermione asked, trying to think of an Auror that Malfoy already didn't know.

"There's a job opening at the Manor. It appears that the Malfoy's need a new housemaid."

Hermione nodded. "So, who's going to be the undercover Auror?"

Kingsley smiled in response.

Draco paced aimlessly around his room, looking for something suitable to do. He had already roamed aimlessly around the Manor, talked to his father's painting, and magicked himself a bowl of cereal. Running out of things to do, he stepped in the shower and let the scalding hot water turn his skin red. He rubbed the scars on his wrists and smiled to himself.

After wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded over to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of black slacks and a green dress shirt, laying them out on his bed. He then found his hair gel and ran it through his hair, messing it up skillfully. He then turned back to his laid out clothes. Changing his mind, he pulled out flannel pants and a long sleeved shirt, slipping them on.

That's when he heard the insistent knocking on the door. He waited for a few minutes too see if his mother was going to get the door, but it appeared she wasn't home. Sighing loudly, he walked down a set of stairs and to the front door. He hesitated at the door, wondering how it would feel seeing someone after three years. Would it be someone he knew?

He swung the doors open, and inspected his nails, pretending to not care that a visitor was at his door. "What do you want?" He asked, sounding annoyed on purpose.

"Well, I'm the new housemaid." The voice was familiar, but he didn't look up.

"Brilliant," Draco sighed, looking at the woman on his doorstep. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the bushy haired, brown-eyed complexion of one of his former classmates. His noise wrinkled up, and a whirl of memories clouded his head.

_Her?_

Hermione stood on the Manor's doorstep, watching Malfoy glare down at her. Maybe he had matured over the past three years.

"_You're_ the new housemaid?"

Hermione sighed. "That's what I said earlier, so yeah."

"Don't get sassy with me, Mudblood. I'm your boss now," Malfoy scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the insult. Looked like the mature idea was out the window. "Sorry for my attitude, _sir_," She replied sarcastically. If he wanted her to treat him like a king, she was going to fight him the whole way.

Malfoy moved over, sneering. "Oh, I have a _long_ list of things for you to do." He walked down the hallway, motioning for her to follow him.

Hermione sighed, carrying her enchanted purse with her. "Where's my room?"

"Why do you need it right now?"

"Well, I obviously need to put my stuff in my room so I don't have it in your way. Sir," Hermione said, motioning to her purse.

"Just carry it around all day, I don't care. Now, first things first," Malfoy jeered. "Make me a sandwich."

Hermione followed him to the kitchen, not believing she had to do this. Kingsley thought she was the only one who could convincingly pull off the tactic they were aiming for. Still, it sucked. A lot.

When they reached the kitchen, Hermione spotted an apron hanging in the corner. She walked over and wrapped it around her waist. "What do you want on your sandwich?"

He laughed cruelly. "You look ridiculous in that apron. It's so Mudblood."

"Looks like your maturity level is just as rock-bottom as it was three years ago, Malfoy."

"Turkey, cheese, mustard, tomato, lettuce, onion," Malfoy said, ticking off the ingredients on his fingers. "In that order." Hermione walked to the fridge to retrieve the ingredients. She put the on the counter and started chopping up the tomato. "Aren't you going to wash that?"

"Do you want me to wash them?" Hermione asked, silently praying her cover would be blown so that she could just go home.

"Uh, yeah. Do you think I want dirty vegetables?"

"I think there's plenty dirt in you," She muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, washing the vegetables carefully. "Happy now?"

"Not even remotely, Mudblood."

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued chopping the tomato up, then moved to the onion. It seemed like he called her Mudblood just to say it. She placed a turkey slice on a piece of bread. "How many slices do you want?"

"It'll tell you when." After the fourth slice, Malfoy said, "That's too much." Sighing, Hermione took off a slice. "That's too little."

"It's three or four, Malfoy. Pick one."

"Three and a half."

Rolling her eyes at his immaturity, she ripped the slice in half and threw it on the sandwich forcefully. "_Now _are you happy?"

"Once I get the fucking sandwich, I'll let you know."

Hermione finished making the sandwich, she shoved it in his face. "Here."

Malfoy took a hesitant bite then shrugged. "It's edible."

Hermione sighed, taking off the apron and placing it where she found it. "Anything else? Sir?" She added sarcastically, taking her bag from where she placed it on a counter.

"I'll let you know when something comes to mind, Granger," He said around his sandwich. Hermione sighed and leaned against the counter. "So, why are you even here?"

Hermione blinked. "Because you said you didn't have anything else for me to do. I'll gladly leave."

"That's not what I meant, dumbass," He scoffed, rolling her eyes as if she had just told him they lived on Mars. "I meant, why do you work here? You used to be nerdy and gross back at Hogwarts. Suddenly, you need a job cleaning up people's crap to scrounge up money? You should be able to get a low job at the Ministry at the very least."

"First off, the 'people's crap' I'll be cleaning up will be you and your mother's crap. I don't have to do a very good job to get paid. Second off, I was _not_ nerdy and gross. I was intelligent, thank you very much," Hermione articulated, flicking a piece of hair behind her shoulder indignantly. She took a deep breath before saying what she had rehearsed the night before. "Finally, after _we_ won the war, I was bombarded by people, asking questions about me, Ron, and Harry. It was so much pressure. I just couldn't handle it. I dropped the idea of becoming an Auror, and just have been searching for jobs to get by. People forgot about me." She shrugged. "This is just another job." In a way, the words she was saying were true. There _had_ been a lot of pressure, but she'd been able to override it.

"That's probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Draco announced, raising an eyebrow. "It's incredibly pathetic, as well. _The_ Mudblood Granger couldn't handle the pressure? Even after I prepared you by making the first six years of your Hogwarts career living hell?"

"You did _not _make it living hell-"

"What? So I made it a stroll in the park?"

"You were the smudge in the background that I didn't care about. I had friends, family, and something worth fighting for."

"Oh, and what was that?" Malfoy sneered, leaning into her face.

Her vision turned red with rage, and she wanted to throw something. "I had the hopes of millions of people on my side. I had the dreams of children born into Muggle parents who realized that they could be something more than what they were. Most importantly, I had the vengeance of all of the families Voldemort destroyed."

"How pathetic-"

"Call it pathetic all you want, you lowlife, but I know that my cause was way more important than you'll ever be," She snapped, gritting her teeth.

"You're so ridiculous. You think you're insults maim me? I know that the only reason you even fought was to help your insolent friends-"

Hermione whipped her hand across Malfoy's cheek. He stared at her with wide eyes, as he reached up to touch his cheek. "_Don't_ call my friends insolent, Malfoy, or you will regret it."

With that, Hermione stormed out of the room.

.

.

**A/N:** Hello, Readers. Thanks so much for reading The Help. It's my first fanfiction, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review with constructive criticism, critiques, and/or compliments. Thanks again for reading, and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP. :)


	2. Chapter 2: Chicken Soup

**Chapter 2: Chicken Soup**

Draco sat in the living room, his fingers drumming against his leg impatiently. He glared at the chimney, waiting for his mother to stumble out with step-shit. "Mudblood!" He shouted, waiting for Granger to come down, but she didn't. She had been holed up wherever for who-knows-how-long, and no amount of shouting and searching had led him to her.

A sputtering from the chimney caused him to turn his head to the chimney. A few seconds later, his mother walked out, dressed in a mini-skirt and some sort of flowery shirt. It was repulsive how she tried to dress like she was his age.

Narcissa's eyes fell on Draco, and he continued glaring at her. He had changed out of his pajamas into the original slacks and green shirt, but "I'm home," She said, gesturing at herself. Draco remained silent. "I'm not dead," She continued, looking at Draco questioningly. "Oliver's not coming home. He called me a bitch then went to live with his mother. I give him a week." She continued looking at Draco, confused. "What's wrong?"

Draco waited a few moments before answering. His voice was surprisingly calm, considering he was furious. "I met the new housemaid today."

Narcissa nodded. "What do you think of her?"

Draco's façade snapped. "She's a Mudblood! She was one of my enemies at Hogwarts! She obviously doesn't want to be here, and _I don't want her here!_"

"Well, Draco. It sounds like all of those are personal. All I know is that she has a good experience cleaning things and that she'll have more of a tolerance to your attitude because of her experience at Hogwarts."

"I want her out and I want her out now!"

"Are you going to clean your room? Are you going to cook all of our food? Are you going to do _anything_ besides sit on your ass all day? You're afraid to restart your life Draco, and until you leave this manor, you're going to live in the past."

"That doesn't have anything to do with the matter at hand!"

"Why don't we just talk to her and see how she feels about working here? If she wants to leave, then I'll let her. But if she doesn't, you're just going to have to deal with it."

Draco was positive that Granger would want to leave, so he smiled. "Bring it on."

Hermione sat in a ballroom, curled up in a ball, racing a set of open doors. Her purse sat next to her and _Jane Eyre_ rested next to it. Hiding for seven hours was a perfect time to catch up on her reading.

She heard Malfoy calling for her earlier, but she hadn't budged. The ballroom had turned out to be an excellent hiding spot and she had remained hidden.

She wasn't exactly sure why she was hiding- it just felt like the instinctive thing to do. She continued staring at the open doors, not moving. Hardly breathing, actually.

"Hermione! Hermione Granger!" She suddenly heard echoing throughout the hallways. It was a female voice she recognized to be Narcissa Malfoy's. The voice continued getting closer until Narcissa's figure appeared in the doorway.

"There you are," Narcissa announced, gliding over to where Hermione sat.

"Here I am," Hermione muttered in response.

"I'm surprised Draco didn't find you hear, what with the door open and everything," Narcissa sitting down next to Hermione.

Hermione was surprised by the gesture. "Malfoy seems like the kind of person who overlooks the obvious."

Narcissa smiled warmly. "That's where you're right."

Hermione remained silent for a moment, pondering in thought. Narcissa seemed nice enough, and Hermione felt a strange respect for her. "Why'd you hire me, Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked suddenly. "I'm a muggle-born, and it's well known that your family doesn't like us."

Narcissa waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't put up with that blood status crap. You either have magical blood, or you don't. End of story. I let Draco believe I don't like Muggle-borns because he doesn't need another reason to hate me."

Hermione was silent. "Is he always unbearable?" She asked after a long pause.

"If by unbearable, you mean stubborn, then yes." Narcissa smiled a content smile. "Draco has always been stubborn, just like his father. And, just like his father, he is exceptionally intelligent. He just hardly ever shows it. I'm very worried for him, considering he practically widowed himself into this bloody house."

"Why's he widowed?"

"I'm not completely sure. His father was killed during The War, and he's been different since." Narcissa pursed her lips. "To be honest, I think he's ashamed of what happened. He's afraid of people judging him for what he almost did. And I believe that he really does want to see the world again, but he's worried about all of the criticism he'd receive. The Malfoy name is still frowned upon, no mater what I try to do to fix it."

Hermione glanced over at Narcissa, taking in the utter heartbreak on her face. "How come Malfoy isn't rotting in a cell like the rest of them?"

"The Ministry saw how he really had been brought up and forced into dark magic by his father. I loved that man, but he was one of the worst influences a young boy could have. Anyway, the Ministry told Draco that he would be sent off to Azkaban if he did a single questionable thing. Draco's a unique case because most kids his age either were too deep in the Dark Arts to be excused, or barely did anything and got off the same way Draco did. Draco's the only person out of Azkaban who knew much of the Dark Lord's followers."

Hermione perked up at an idea. "Mrs. Malfoy, do _you_ know any Death Eaters who escaped from The War? Has Malfoy told you anything?"

"No, dear. I was never privy to that information, and Draco never told me anything."

Hermione felt her shoulders sag with disappointment. "Oh."

Narcissa looked at her questioningly. "I'm curious to why you want to know."

Hermione shrugged indifferently. "It's nothing," She lied.

Narcissa frowned slightly. "Hermione, you seemed very depressed. Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

Hermione's memory flashed back.

_Ron stared at her in disbelief. "You're _what?_"_

_Hermione sighed. "I have to go on an assignment. I don't know for how long, though, so I'm going to need for you to take care of my house. That includes Crookshanks, Ronald. _Please_, don't forget to feed him."_

_Ron stared at her. "I won't, but-"_

"_And please try and clean up all of your crap while I'm gone, okay? It would be nice to come home to a clean house."_

"_I will, but-"_

"_Oh, and-"_

"Hermione._ Would you _please_ let me talk?"_

_Hermione swallowed and forced a smile. "Of course. I'm sorry, Ron."_

"_Where exactly are you going?"_

"_That's confidential information, Ron," Hermione replied feeling insanely guilty as she watched his face fall. "But I'll send you and Harry owls, okay? And I'm sure that where I'm going will let me get away once in a while."_

"_I'll just miss you Hermione," Ron was whispered reaching down to squeeze her hand. Hermione felt a pang of emotion and realized that she did care for Ron. Maybe not as much as he did for her, but she did care for him. _

"_I'll miss you too, Ron."_

_Ron leaned in and for the first time in three years, Hermione let his lips touch hers._

_People always say that whenever you share a kiss with the person you're meant to be with forever, you feel a spark. It's the most basic concept of romance._

_Hermione pulled away from the kiss, frowning at the lack of a spark. She wondered if she would ever find her soul mate._

"Hermione?" Narcissa's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I was just remembering something. It's nothing," Hermione said, blinking. She thought about how she had yet to ever find a romantic connection with anyone. This made her want to collapse in on herself. So many of her friends were already married, and she was still by herself with a messy roommate.

"Would you mind following me, dear?" Narcissa asked, standing up. Hermione nodded and followed her out of the room, picking up her purse and book along the way. She trailed along until Narcissa led her into a huge living room.

It had an odd feeling to it. This wasn't where she had been tortured, but this living room looked much like where she had. There was a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and it casted strange shadows all over the walls. One of the walls was one huge mirror, making the room seem twice as large. Hermione got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shuddered at her frizzy hair and wild expression.

That's when she noticed Malfoy laying on one of the couches, flipping through one of his mother's fashion magazines. He looked up and noticed Hermione and Narcissa watching him. "It's about time you both got here. I was forced to flip through Mother's magazine, and may I say how fucking ridiculous it is?"

"Draco," Narcissa said, looking at her son reproachfully.

"Suck it up, Mother. I'm a grown boy." Malfoy said, waving his hand in the air and standing up. "So you brought the Mudblood?"

"I'm right here, Malfoy. I can hear everything you're saying."

Malfoy was about to say a snide comeback when Narcissa interrupted him. "Hermione, would you mind answering a question?"

"No, of course not."

Malfoy sneered and Narcissa continued on. "Do you want to work here?"

The question surprised Hermione. She didn't _want_ to work for the Milfoils, but she had to for information. "I need to the money," She began, not making eye contact, "So, yeah. I want to work here."

Malfoy scowled. "_What?_ You _want_ to work here?" Hermione swallowed and nodded, not speaking in fear of her voice cracking. "You dubious bitch. I _know_ you're lying." With that, Malfoy strode out of the room, muttering under his breath.

"Draco!" Narcissa called after his son. "I'm sorry."

Hermione eyed where Malfoy had left. "It's fine," She said, feeling a wave of anger overcome her. "Can you show me my room?"

"Certainly." Narcissa led Hermione out of the room and back into the creepy hallways.

Draco slammed the door behind him harshly, still muttering under his breath. He _knew_ the Mudblood was lying about wanting to stay. He didn't remember her as a liar from Hogwarts. She had just been stubborn nerdy and a real pain in the ass. His father had given him constant grief for why he was constantly beaten in academics by a Mudblood.

How he had hated Granger back in school! She had always been brilliant, so it was understandable that she got respect from most teachers. What didn't make any sense was how she had so many friends. Not only was she in the repulsive trio that always broke the rules and somehow managed to get away with it, but she had also had several other friends.

Draco didn't recall having as many friends as her. Crabbe and Gayle were more like servants that bent at his will, and Pansy was just another Slytherin girl who had fawned over him. He'd only hooded up with her because she was hot. The closest person he'd ever had to a friend was Zabini, but even he was more of an acquaintance.

Draco scoffed at himself. What was he doing, thinking of how Granger was better than him? He strode over to his dresser and pulled out the razorblade. In one swift movement, he tore his shirt off then sat down, leaning against his bathroom door. This time he slit himself across his left shoulder. Sweet bliss swept over him, and he smiled, closing his eyes. This was how he fell asleep, gripping the blade loosely.

When he woke up, his stomach growled. One glance at the clock told him that only four hours had passed and that it was eight at night. He slipped his shirt back on, then wandered into the kitchen. The Mudblood was cutting up vegetables.

"I'm starving," Draco announced, eyeing the food lying all over the counter. His stomach rumbled.

"Well, I'm making dinner right now," Granger replied, taking a tray of cut up peppers, onions, and tomatoes to a huge pot on one of the stoves. She poured them into a boiling liquid. Draco had to admit, it smelled fantastic.

"What is it?" He asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"Chicken Soup."

"Gross."

"You're gross," Granger replied, replacing a lid on the pot.

Draco noticed she was wearing a ridiculous pink apron with ruffles along the edges. "Nice apron," He sneered.

"Thanks," Granger said, rolling her eyes. "I got it out of your wardrobe," She added sarcastically.

Draco blinked, then looked at Granger with a raised eyebrow. "Ruffled and pink don't flatter me." Would he finally have an equal partner in arguing?

"I don't know why you bought it, then," Granger said, washing her hands in the sink.

"Come to think of it, it doesn't flatter you, either-"

"Why you would pick out something as ugly as this I have no idea-"

"Does anything flatter you-"

"Maybe that's why you wear that dark ensemble. You don't have anything better-"

"I don't think you would look good in anything-"

"Is that why you're widowed? People would make fun of you because of how you dress-"

"The only time I recall anyone looking at you lustily was at the Yule Ball, but that hardly counts-"

"I'm actually not all that surprised you would pick something as frilly as this-"

"Well, Mudblood," Draco began, his voice a different tone. "I'm surprised that you can hold your own in an argument."

Granger whirled around to glare at Draco, her cheeks flushed red with her anger. She opened her mouth to say something. "I-"

"Make me something to eat."

She stared at him like he was taking crack. "I am," She said slowly after a second.

"I want something to eat _now,_" Draco complained.

"Then make it yourself!" Granger said impatiently, making an agitated gesture with her hands. Draco remained silent. "Go on! I'm waiting." Draco stood glaring, his cheeks reddening with anger. Granger's face changed and a slow grin spread on her face. "Wait a second. You can't make anything, can you?" Draco stood seething. "Ha! Draco Malfoy can't feed himself!" Granger laughed loudly and obnoxiously.

"Shut up, you stupid Mudblood! You have _no_ right-"

"I have every right! If you're going bitch about everything, then leave! I don't care."

Draco shot her a glare that could have slain weaker people, but Hermione continued glaring at Draco. Draco couldn't believe how strong she was acting. He didn't remember her like this at all. "In case you've forgotten, _Mudblood,_ you work for _me_ now, and if you don't want to be fired-"

"Actually, _Malfoy_, you can't fire me."

"I can do whatever the hell I want to-"

"You're Mother and I came to an agreement whenever she showed me to my room."

Draco froze. "What sort of agreement?"

"You're allowed to give me reasonable work, and I have to complete. But, you can't fire me. You don't have anything over me-"

"Except for the fact that you work for me-"

"Technically, I work for your _Mother-_"

"You work for me, Granger. I may not be able to fire you, but I sure as hell can make you want to quit."

Granger narrowed her eyes. "You'll never be able to make me quit."

Malfoy chuckled a dark chuckle. "Is that a challenge?"

Granger smiled snarkily. "You wish it was a challenge, Malfoy." With that, she raised an eyebrow and began stirring the soup. "It's about ready if you want to eat."

"I don't want any of your Mudblood soup," Draco said condescendingly. A loud growling in his stomach promptly followed his refusal.

"Fine. Don't have any. I'm taking a bowl of this up to your mother's room. She's complaining about the beginning of a migraine, then I'm going to bed." She strode out of the door, holding a tray with a bowl of soup.

"Okay, fine. Walk away from this fight! I won!" Draco shouted after her down the hall. She remained silent as she walked out of sight. "Fucking bitch," Draco muttered under his breath.

He looked back at the pot of soup. It _did _smell superb, and his stomach was speaking to him. With an annoyed sigh, Draco poured himself a bowl of the Mudblood soup. He promised himself one thing: He sure as hell wasn't going to enjoy it.

After giving Narcissa her soup, Hermione made her way to her room. She was surprised because she actually found herself liking the room. It was simple. One four-poster bed in the corner, a desk, a dresser, and a joining bathroom with the usual amenities.

What she liked about it was the lack of feeling. It wasn't homey, but it certainly wasn't creepy like the rest of the house. She much preferred a room with no feeling as opposed to a room with an ominous one.

Hermione made her way into the shower, enjoying the feeling of hot water soaking her skin. She basked in the warmth as the water loosened up her tense muscles. She let out a long sigh, smiling at the peculiar feeling showering gave her.

After she turned the water off, Hermione slipped into silk pajamas. Pursing her lips in thought, she decided she would write a letter to her friends. After gathering parchment, ink and quills from inside her purse, she sat down. She gave it quite a bit of thought, then began to write her letter.

Dear Harry,

How I wish you and Ron were here with me. It's undeniably horrid, just as I knew it would be. Malfoy's just as terrible as before, except now he's gone and widowed himself. It's very frustrating, and I cannot wait until I'm finished.

I wonder how long you'll be in London. I get off Sundays, so if you're still here, you, Ron and I can meet up at some point.

Could you make sure Ron's feeding Crookshanks? I don't need to come home to a starved cat.

Thanks, Harry. Miss you and love you.

Hermione

Hermione wrote up much the same letter to Ron then sent them both off with Franklin, an owl she borrowed from Narcissa. After watching Franklin disappear into the distance she decided to call it an early night. Merlin knew what she was going to have to do tomorrow.

Hermione snuggled under the covers in the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come swiftly.

Draco paced around his room, thinking about nothing in particular. He had finished off the bowl of Granger's soup, along with three others. He was half-expecting that it was poisoned and that he would drop dead any second now.

When ten minutes passed and he didn't die, Draco settled for falling asleep. He pulled on boxers, and then crawled into his bed. Sleep didn't come for a while, but then again, it never did. All of the mistakes he had made in his whole lifetime flashed in front of him, and no matter how much he tried to shut them out, he couldn't.

Draco spent his night dreaming about death and soup.

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Sorry for the shortness. I'd like to thank **Elf L. Dragoon** for leaving a review about the mistake on my document and how it was hard to tell the different POV. Hope the change helped in this chapter.

Also, I'm not from the UK, so I'm not familiar with the language tendencies. I'm just not going to deal like it, and they're gonna talk like Americans!

Thanks for reading! Please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3: Assault

**Chapter 3: Assault**

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she reached over to turn off her alarm clock. Being a witch didn't change her desperate need for a wake up call. Yawning, she sat up and stretched. After slipping on sweat pants and an old shirt, she put her frizzy hair into a ponytail.

She made her way down to the kitchen and began frying up eggs. By the time Narcissa wondered into the kitchen, Hermione had already made a full-course breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns and toast.

"This looks fantastic!" Narcissa exclaimed, swiping a piece of bacon and taking a bite. "You're going to make me fat."

Hermione laughed, her spirits surprisingly high. "I don't think that's possible." It was unbelievable how great Narcissa looked at her age.

"Is Draco up?"

Hermione's good mood immediately plunged through the floor. "No." Narcissa nodded, taking another bite. "Do you want me to do anything today?"

Narcissa looked in the distance thoughtfully. After a second she pulled a plate to her filled with eggs and bacon. "Could you clean today?" She asked, taking a huge bite.

Hermione nodded, flicking her wand to clean the dishes. "Of course."

Narcissa noticed her use of magic. "Hermione, if you're going to use magic to clean the dishes, then why not use it to cook?"

Hermione shrugged. "I just always thought food tasted better when you make it without magic. So, anything particular you want me to clean?"

"Just the living rooms and bathrooms today. That should take you awhile."

Hermione nodded, not liking the sound of that at all. "Sounds like fun," She said sarcastically.

Narcissa laughed, looking at her watch. "It's nine and Draco's not up?"

Hermione shrugged awkwardly. To be honest, she actually liked that he wasn't up and annoying her. "I guess not."

"Could you go wake him up? I'm going over to a friends house."

Hermione nodded unenthusiastically. "Sure."

Narcissa smiled. "Thanks, Hermione! I'll be back by dinner." With that she smiled and walked into the living room. A minute later, Hermione heard the _whooshing_ of the chimney, signaling that Narcissa had left.

Hermione groaned and made her way to Draco's room.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Wake up!"

Draco groaned loudly and pulled his pillow over his head.

"Malfoy, wake up!"

Draco grumbled under his breath and threw his pillow at whoever was getting him up at this ungodly hour.

"Wake _up!_" This time, the verbal assault was followed by a hard smack in the head with his pillow.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he glared at his torturer. Of course, it was the Mudblood standing next to his bed. "What the hell are you doing at this time of day?"

Granger rolled her eyes and said, "It's nine in the morning."

"Exactly."

"Stop being a wuss."

"You're the one waking me up. I hate it when people wake me up."

"Well, it's not my fault. I'm supposed to make sure your fed. You're mommy told me to make sure you have a nice big breakfast," Granger said, making googly faces like she was talking to a three year old.

"You're hilarious," Draco grumbled, rolling over and facing away from that ugly face. "What did you make? More soup?" Draco tried not to sound hopeful.

"For breakfast? No. I made eggs, hash browns-"

"No meat? I'm a man, Granger-"

"Not a very manly one."

"I'm plenty manly, thank you very much."

"Because sitting one your ass all day is _so_ manly. That's definitely what girls find attractive."

"Oh, and I'm sure you want someone who accomplishes every task known to man."

"I sure don't want a couch potato."

"I'm a couch potato, and I'm plenty enough man for you." There was a moment of silence before Draco and Granger realized what he had said. "Not that I'd want to be with a Mudblood," Draco said, saving himself.

"You're so annoying."

"How about you go cook me some meat?"

"I already did. You just didn't let me finish my sentence. Do you always interrupt-"

"Yeah," Draco said, pulling the covers closer around him.

"Jesus Christ, Malfoy! Get your lazy butt out of bed and come eat!"

"Why do you care?"

"You're mother told me to get you out of bed, and that's what I intend to do." Granger moved and tried to pull the sheets off of him in an effort to get him out.

Draco struggled against her, partly because he didn't want her to get the glorious feeling of her seeing him half naked, and partly because he didn't want her to see his scars. They were his secret and he didn't want anyone else to know about them.

"STOP!" Draco shouted and Granger recoiled from him. "I'LL GET OUT OF BED IN FIVE MINUTES. JUST GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS AWAY FROM ME."

Granger glared at him. "Fine. You're a real bastard, you know that?" With that she strode out of his room and slammed the door behind her.

"Bitch," Draco said, climbing out of bed.

"I HEARD THAT!" Granger's voice floated through the door.

"HOP OFF!" Draco shouted back, pulling his jeans and a long sleeve green v-neck on. He brushed his teeth and pocketed his wand before leaving his room. Granger wasn't in sight. He wandered into the kitchen and found a plate loaded with eggs, sausage, bacon, and hash browns. He found a note sitting next to it.

Sighing he read the note.

**Malfoy,**

**I'm cleaning all the bathrooms and living rooms today.**

**This is breakfast. Find me when you're hungry.**

**The Housemaid**

Draco crumpled the note and began eating the eggs, pretending that they tasted terrible. But, being honest with himself, he found that they actually tasted decent. That scared him more than he knew.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione scrubbed the floor in one of the guest bedrooms and she was _not_ liking it. At all.

How she got herself in this situation, she had no clue. She should be investigating dark wizards, not investigating the floor underneath a toilet.

"Kill me now," Hermione muttered underneath her breath.

"Gladly," A voice behind her stated. Turning around, she discovered it was Malfoy. "Would you like a slow and painful death, or would you like me to make it quick?"

"Ha-ha, Malfoy. You're _so_ funny," Hermione said, standing up to almost match his height. Why did he half to be so damn tall? "What do you want?"

"I'm hungry."

Sighing, Hermione looked at her watch. One o'clock. Time flies when you're scrubbing floors. "Okay, let me just wash my hands."

After scrubbing thoroughly and rinsing the soap off, she reached for the towel and came up empty handed. Groaning, she remembered that she had taken the towels down to wash them.

"God, you're slow. Just wipe them on your shirt," Malfoy said impatiently.

"Okay," Hermione replied, reaching over and wiping her hands off on his shirt. "Thanks. What do you want for lunch?" She asked, walking out of the bathroom.

"_What the hell?_" Malfoy spat, running after and blocking her path. "Who do you think you are?"

"Hermione Jean Granger." She walked around him, into the hallway and for the kitchen. "What are you in the mood for? A sandwich? More soup? Judging by the empty pot last night, you seemed to like it a lot last night."

"You can't just walk away from this!"

"I believe that's what I'm doing."

"You deliberately disrespected me."

"You do that to everyone."

"That's different-"

Hermione whirled around so that she was inches from Malfoy and glared at him menacingly. "How is it different? Tell me- how is it different?"

"Well-"

"You know that stupid kid saying?"

"I-"

"Treat others how you would want to be treated?"

"That's-"

"With the way you've treated everyone, I'd say you have one hell of a lifetime in store."

"You listen to me, Mudblood. I don't need you to lecture me on how to play nice."

"Well, obviously-"

"We're not talking about that. We're talking about how you deliberately assaulted me."

"A salad would be good too," Hermione said, walking away.

"You're not even listening to me!" Malfoy exclaimed, following her.

"Or spaghetti! That would be delicious!"

"Damn it, Granger!" Malfoy grabbed her arm and turned her to face him again. "Now you listen to me-"

"No, Malfoy. _You_ listen to _me._ I don't care about who you are or where you're from. You're just another needy crybaby who seeks other people's pain for pleasure. Do want you want but you'll never be able to faze me." Hermione's eyes shot daggers. "Now, soup or spaghetti?"

Malfoy looked shocked. "You're no longer the pathetic little schoolgirl you once were, Granger. You've matured into someone who can actually fend for herself. You've changed."

"You haven't." With that, Hermione turned on her heel and off towards the kitchen.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco stared after Granger, his mouth agape. Who the hell did she think she was? He strode back towards his room, muttering under his breath. He accidently passed by his father's painting.

"Draco," His father said and Draco froze. Turning around, he glared at Lucius, who grinned in return.

"What?"

"Something got you wound up? You're awfully tense. And you're acting like someone stabbed a fork in your left foot."

"Why would someone stab a fork in my left foot, Father? Who seriously asks a question like that?" Draco asked impatiently, shaking his head.

"It would certainly get you riled up, wouldn't it?"

"Jesus, Father. You're so immature." Draco made to leave, but was interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Draco. Seriously- tell me what's bothering you."

Draco hesitated before answering. "Mother's hired a Mudblood as our new housemaid. Granger."

"I can certainly see why that would bother you-"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Lucius didn't flinch at Draco's language. He never had. "Well, you are getting older. Hormones kick in and when a man sees a woman that he likes-"

Draco shuddered. "That's disgusting. You think I see the bitch that way?"

Lucius smiled knowingly. "She walked by earlier, Draco. She definitely isn't the ugly girl you described several years ago."

Draco supposed that she did look better. Her hair was less frizzy, she wore makeup, and she composed herself in a much more dignified manner. She also filled into her top much better than before.

Still- she was a Mudblood. She didn't deserve he magical powers, she clogged up the Wizarding World, and her presence was disgusting.

"Father, she's a Mudblood. You're the one who was always telling me about how poisonous they are for the Wizarding society."

"Death does many things for a man, Draco. This includes seeing things from a different perspective."

"What, so now I'm supposed to walk hand-an-hand with the Mudbloods I hate?"

"Take advantage of things in life, son. When a beautiful woman shows up out of the blue on your doorstep-"

"Technically, Mother knew she was coming, so she didn't show up randomly-"

"-You should bring her closer, not block her out," Lucius continued, pretending that Draco hadn't said anything.

"Even if said person is Mudblood scum?" Draco asked, mocking his father's serious tone.

"Make your own decisions, son. That's all I can say."

"If you're going to go all fortuneteller on me, then I'm leaving."

"Then go. Just remember what I said."

Draco stalked back to his room, refusing to even dwell on what his father was talking about. After slamming his door shut, he threw himself onto his bed then fell asleep.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

'You've changed.' Malfoy's words echoed around Hermione's head. She'd changed? What did he mean by _that?_ Hermione stirred pasta and scolded herself for falling for Malfoy's stupid mind tricks.

She drained the pasta, then stirred in spaghetti sauce. For some reason, spaghetti calmed her, and she needed calming down after the argument. After pouring some in a bowl, she leaned against the counter and chewed thoughtfully.

How Malfoy managed to piss her off so much, she had no idea. He _was _a rude, arrogant, selfish little prat, but she'd dealt with him in school fine. Maybe it was because she was here by herself with no friends to cheer her up. Still, she should be able to fend him off without a second chance.

She continued eating until she finished, then poured Malfoy a bowl. He hadn't followed her into the kitchen, so she assumed that she's just pissed him off enough to make him go to his room and pout. Sighing, she walked to his room and gently knocked on the door. There wasn't a response so she softly opened it.

Malfoy was sprawled on his bed, sleeping the day away. Hermione rolled her eyes and set the bowl of spaghetti on his bedside table. She murmured a spell to keep in warm, and then summoned a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink. She wrote out a quick note.

**Malfoy,**

**This is lunch. I decided on spaghetti. There's more in the kitchen.**

**The Housemaid**

She sat the note next to the table, than made to leave.

"Father," Malfoy suddenly muttered, twitching in his sleep. "Father," He repeated.

Hermione looked at Malfoy and was surprised at how young he looked in his sleep. He looked ten times more innocent.

"Father," Malfoy repeated one more time before sighing.

Hermione tiptoed outside, and then gently shut the door. She walked back to one of the bathrooms, trying hard not to dwell on Malfoy's mind tricks and what they were doing to her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ** I feel stupid. I did indeed make the changes last chapter, but then I accidently exited out of the page and had to re-edit it and everything. I was in a rush and forgot to put in little stars to seperate the POV's. Facepalm.

Anywho- thanks to** EsemmeTresemme **for the review. Mucho help!

LET'S SEE IF THE SPLIT ACTUALLY WORKS THIS TIME, YES?

Thanks for reading. Please review! :)

Bowie-Legacy


	4. Chapter 4: Nightmare

A/N: Just saying again, I don't own Harry Potter. Yet. Rowling and I are still working out the specifics. *sighhhh* I wish.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Nightmare<strong>

Draco felt his body tense as he woke up. His eyes blinked rapidly and his breathing was heavy. A sudden pain in his stomach caused him to clutch his stomach and run to the toilet across the hall. He gripped the side of the bathtub as he vomited.

When he was finished, Draco stood up and splashed cold water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, grimacing at his reflection. His skin was paler than usual, he had bags under his bloodshot eyes, his lips were severely chapped, and his hair lay limp on his head. Draco closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

He'd had another dream.

Draco never dreamed. Usually, when he fell asleep, there was nothing, and then he woke up. But, when Draco dreamed, it was always a terrible nightmare. Most of the time, it was memories of his childhood, good and bad, but haunting just the same. He'd always wake up and throw up.

Last night had been a memory of his father, and those were _always_ the worst. Shutting his eyes, Draco remembered the nightmare.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_Draco was six years old, walking down Knockturn Alley and holding his father's hand. They were getting his mother her birthday present. Lucius led Draco into a jewelry store, and then looked down at him sternly. "I'm talking to the owner. Don't get lost."_

_Draco smiled and nodded to his father. "Of course I won't."_

_Lucius gave Draco a meaningful look, and then strode up to the owner, asking for the most expensive piece the store owned. The owner led Lucius to the back, and, already bored out of his mind, Draco wandered around the store. A particularly shiny necklace caught his eye, and Draco peered closer. It was a simple heart necklace, the heart increased in what appeared to be diamonds._

_"Eyeing the jewlery, aren't you?" A voice behind him inquired. Draco abruptly turned around and glared at the boy who was talking. "That's never a good sign, mate," A redheaded freckle-faced said._

_"I wasn't looking at it," Draco replied, crossing his arms over his chest like he's seen his father do countless times._

_"Sure you weren't."_

_"Who are you, anyway?" Draco asked impatiently._

_"The name's Fred Weasely," Fred said, pointing at the sweater he was wearing. A rather large "F" was sewn in, and Draco resisted the urge to laugh._

_"Why are you here?" Draco asked curiously._

_"Getting Mum's Anniversary present with my dad. George is with Mum, getting new shoes. Mum didn't want to bring us both; we'd just cause trouble," Fred added, grinning._

_"Oh." Draco wondered who George was._

_"We've been looking for half an hour. Dad can't find the right one." Fred rolled his eyes. "I'll be the first man to die of boredom."_

_"You're hardly a man," Draco pointed out._

_"Watch it."_

_"What about this necklace?" Draco asked, gesturing toward the necklace he'd been admiring earlier._

_"Thought you said you weren't looking at it," Fred muttered offhandedly, eyeing the price tag. His face fell slightly. "Oh. It's fifty galleons. We could never afford that for something like this."_

_Draco was about to ask why when he was interrupted. "Draco!" Lucius snapped, indicating for him to go to Lucius's side._

_"Bye," Draco muttered, following his father's orders. Lucius paid for the expensive necklace, and then pulled Draco out of the store. Draco noticed the necklace Lucius was holding. It was a simple chain with a huge emerald hanging from it. Draco decided he liked the other one much better. From there, Lucius gripped Draco's arm and apparated back to the manor._

_As soon as they appeared in the living room, Lucius snapped. "What the hell were you doing?"_

_Surprised by his father's reaction, Draco's eyes widened. "I-"_

_"Did you realize who you were talking to? That was Fred Weasely. Weasely's son."_

_"I didn't know-"_

_"Did you even think about what communicating with a blood traitor would do to our social status?"_

_"No-"_

_"Of course you didn't. You're jus a selfish little boy who lives in his own world."_

_By this time, there were tears forming in Draco's eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't know."_

_Lucius's eyes softened. "Follow me, Draco." Lucius led Draco outside and to the lake that was a part of their property. This was Draco's favorite spot to read books and swim._

_"What are blood traitors?" Draco asked, looking up at his father's face._

_"Blood traitors are purebloods who think Mudbloods are equivalent to other wizards and witches."_

_"What are Mudbloods?" Draco had heard the word before, coming out of his father's mouth. He knew it was bad, but he didn't know what it meant._

_"They're wizards or witches that were bred from Muggles," Lucius said, his nose wrinkling with disgust._

_Draco looked at the lake, still confused. "Why are Mudbloods bad?" He asked slowly._

_Lucius sighed. "Draco. Our family has been pureblood for generations. Since the beginning of time. Our name is well respected, and everyone looks at us differently because of who we're related to."_

_Draco nodded. His father had told him multiple times that he was better than other kids his age._

_"Mudbloods are people who are born with magic. They have one or two ancestors who were magical, and they're the only person since. They enter the Wizarding World not knowing anything, but still apart of it."_

_Draco still looked at the lake._

_"Would you say that a family who has lived in the Wizarding World for generations is equal to someone who was just entered into it?"_

_"Well-"_

_"Exactly. I'm glad we had this talk." Lucius smiled and patted Draco on the back. "I've got important people I need to talk to," He said, walking to the Manor. "Don't drown yourself."_

_"Of course I won't," Draco called after his father. He remembered something. "Wait, Father!"_

_Lucius turned around with an annoyed expression on his face. "Why did you buy the most expensive necklace in the store?"_

_Lucius smiled. "Because the more expensive a present is, the more a woman will love it. That's girl advice right there."_

_"Okay." Lucius waved at his son and walked back towards the Manor._

_Draco turned back to the lake, pulling his shoes off and stepping into the freezing lake. The water came up to his ankles, but his legs were covered in goose bumps. "Mudbloods are bad," He whispered to himself. "Blood traitors are bad."_

_He whispered the two simple sentences repeatedly for hours until Dobby pulled him in for dinner._

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco strode across the hall and back into his bedroom. The smell of spaghetti overwhelmed him. Looking around, he found a bowl and a note on his bedside table. He quickly read the note and rolled his eyes and the Mudblood's signature. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the trashcan.

He picked the bowl up and eyed it carefully, looking for insects or possible hazards Granger would have slipped in. After finding nothing, he cautiously took a bite, sighing in delight. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was five, so the bowl must have been sitting for four hours. He concluded that Granger must have used a spell to keep it warm.

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. Why would the Mudblood he'd constantly insulted since he was eleven suddenly do something as simple as keeping his food warm for him?

Draco paced around his room anxiously. Did she expect him to do something nice for her? He wasn't going to, that's for sure. He still hated her to no extent. What if she asked him if the food was warm? What would he say? "Uh, yeah. It was warm; thanks to the spell you put on it. I'm not sure why, because you hate me and I hate you." That would sound stupid.

He slammed his fist down on his desk in frustration. _This_ is why he hated people. They made everything awkward. Well, that, and because all of them were complete morons.

Suddenly, he froze. To get the spaghetti into his room, Granger must have come in. "That _bitch,_" He spat, walking to his dresser and fumbling with the razor blade. In one shaky movement, he pulled his shirtsleeve up and slid the blade against his left wrist, and sighed. Still, through the bliss, he felt burning anger. Growling, he threw the blade back in the dresser.

He strode out of his room, beginning to throw open every door to every bathroom. He was ready to give her a piece of his mind.

He was furious that she went into his room. He was furious that she had ignored his privacy. Most of all, he was furious that she was messing with his head.

.

.

Hermione walked into her bathroom and washed her face. When she came back into her bedroom, something outside her window caught her attention. Looking closer, she saw that it was Annethe, Harry's owl. She quickly opened the door and Annethe flew in. Hermione untied the letter and sat on her bed, grinning. She read the letter, stroking Annethe's feathers.

**Hermione,**

**Seeing as tomorrow is Sunday, Ron and I will be waiting at your house. You better come straight here, so that we can all have a nice day that has nothing to do with any sort of Malfoy.**

**Ron gave Crookshanks too much food, and, in result, Crookshanks was having stomach pains. Or something. I'm not really sure.**

**Anyway, we got him fixed up and now he's perfectly healthy and normal again. Well, you know. As normal as your lunatic cat can be.**

**Harry**

Hermione smiled and flipped the paper over. With a quill, she wrote, "OK," on the back and sent off Annethe. She giggled when she thought of what Harry's face would look like when he saw that she replied with two letters.

Sighing, Hermione summoned her cleaning supplies and walked into Narcissa's bathroom. Five minutes later, she was scrubbing the toilet in Narcissa's bathroom. When she stopped fighting against working, she found that the repetitive motion of scrubbing actually calmed her. Who knew?

Suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall. Malfoy was seething in the doorway.

"Well, you look like hell. Did you get run over by a bus?" Hermione asked, standing up.

"What the fuck were you doing in my room?" Malfoy spat.

"Seriously. You're all pale and your eyes are dead. Well, they're always dead, but they look particularly dead. Offense intended." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Did you get a wink of sleep?"

"Maybe I haven't!" Draco shouted.

Hermione didn't blink at his raised voice. "You know there's a spell for that," She pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"You know there's a spell for that," Malfoy mimicked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, _real_ mature, Malfoy. I guess we're back to year one at Hogwarts?"

"You're the one who entered my room!" Malfoy said, pointing a finger in Hermione's face.

"Yeah, because I'm the _housemaid_. It's my _job_." She rolled her eyes. "You're argument isn't even making sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense! I'm your fucking boss and you'll do what I say!"

"I've done every order you've told me to do. Within reason," Hermione added thoughtfully.

"Go die in a hole," Malfoy said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Within reason," Hermione repeated, glaring back.

"That seems reasonable enough."

"Go soak your head."

"Gee, someone's a little angry."

Hermione made a noise of disgust. "You think you can just waltz in here and bitch at me, then call me angry?"

Malfoy laughed cruelly. "That's actually what I'm doing right now."

Hermione made an almost feral noise and kicked Mafloy as hard as she could in the shins. Malfoy's eyes immediately watered, and he clutched his shin protectively. "Oops, I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"You're the most vile, low, despicable, loathesome-"

"You sound like you're describing yourself," Hermione said, looking at her nails.

"You-"

"No, not me. I said that you're describing _yourself._" Smiling at him like one would smile at a toddler, she pat the top of his head.

"Get your filthy hands off of me," Malfoy said, slapping away her hand.

"You know, most would say that you're hopeless."

"I've been told that several times." He paused then looked at her. "What would you say?"

Hermione smiled innocently. "I would have to agree, Malfoy."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco stared at her, feeling the dull ache in his shin start to fade away. "Well," He said, recovering. "I'd have to agree with you all. I am hopeless. That's what makes me so damn sexy." He smirked his famous Malfoy Smirk. "Oh, and bring me more of the spaghetti. This time let it go cold. I don't need you or anyone doing me any favors." With that, he strode out of the bathroom.

Hopeless? Everyone thought he was hopeless? Draco already knew that he was, and he kind of took pride in it. In fact, being hopeless meant no one would stick their noses in his business. He had ultimate freedom. Everyone thinking he was hopeless meant he would never let anyone down again. Not that he would care.

Draco opened the door to his room and walked inside. Silently, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall. He cautiously sniffed the air, grimacing when he smelled her perfume from when _she_ came in. When she did something nice for him.

_She_ thought he was hopeless?

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione walked down the hallway, carrying a bowl of cold spaghetti. She sighed, thinking about the earlier argument. She hated how Malfoy had managed to turn her award-winning comeback and finish it off with his own. There was no doubt that he had had the last word, and that really bugged her. No doubt he was probably in his room, gloating about it now.

She walked up to his door and knocked. When there was no answer, she knocked again.

"WHAT?" A voice behind the door shouted.

"It's me."

"No, really? I thought you were Dobby," Malfoy said, opening the door. Hermione blinked. He had changed into boxer shorts and a long sleeve tight fitting shirt. Malfoy smirked. "Enjoying the view?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She handed the bowl of spaghetti to him. "Here's your cold spaghetti. _Sir._"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well, isn't this special." He said sarcastically, scratching at his long-sleeve shirt.

"Why do you always wear those?"

"What? These?" Malfoy gestured to his shirt. Hermione nodded, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Because they're _comfy,_" He declared, slamming the door in her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kicked the door. "You're so immature!" She shouted through the door.

Malfoy opened the door a crack, peering through like a widowed lady. "You just kicked my door. You're on no grounds to be calling me immature." He shut the door again.

Hermione walked back to the kitchen and waved her wand to clean up everything. She watched silently as dishes flew all over the kitchen, still slightly awed by the magic.

"Why are you staring at dishes?" A voice behind her asked.

Hermione turned around, seeing Narcissa staring at her curiously. "Sometimes the idea of magic still surprises me." Hermione smiled and added, "How was your day?"

Narcissa's face immediately lit up. "Oh, it was wonderful! Rita and I saw a muggle sport game, because she was writing about the dangers of it. What was it called again? Oh, soccer! It was incredible, just like Quidditch on the ground. But, these boys were going all out, nearly knocking each other over. Quidditch is _much _safer." _Not really, _Hermione thought. She'd never really considered soccer dangerous. "Anyways, after that we went shopping all around Knockturn Alley, and I found the most amazing pair of high heels. Oh, that reminds me!" Narcissa flicked her wand and immediately boxes and boxes flew out of her purse. "I'm going to need you to put those away for me tomorrow."

"Um, actually, tomorrow is my day off."

Narcissa slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead. "Oh, that's right! I'm sorry. You can just do it Monday, then. Anyways, I'm exhausted. I'll see you Monday." With that, Narcissa climbed up a staircase and away to her bedroom.

Following suit, Hermione walked to her own bedroom. After brushing her teeth and pulling her pajamas on, she curled up in bed with a nice book, reading until she could no longer hold her eyes open.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Mmmmk, I know this took kinda long to get up. I apologize! :)

Aaand, I want to give the HUGEST thank you to my grammar nazi, **Bulba-Chan**. Thanks soooo much for doing the nasty work. *shudder* I hate grammar.

Thanks for all the reviews! The make me smile and I've reread them to the point where I've memorized them. Reviews are definetly the best thing in the world. Besides ice cream. e.O

Aaaand, thanks for the favorites! They make me feel all warm inside! *giggles at the feeling of warmth inside*

Oh, and check it out! You can actually tell when it switches points of views! :)

Wow, this is kinda turning longer that I thought...

Anywho, thanks for reading. I really appreciate it! Review please! :D


	5. Chapter 5: Tension

**Chapter 5: Tension**

.

* * *

><p><em>The next day at lunch<em>

.

* * *

><p>Hermione giggled as she watched Ron drop <em>another <em>spoonful of chowder into his lap. "Ronald, you have the most appalling coordination I've ever seen."

Ron snorted. "You're forgetting who was Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. _Two_ years running!" Ron exclaimed, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

Harry grinned. "You definitely didn't have any help there," Harry muttered, earning a glare from Ron.

"Keep your voice down. We're in a muggle restaurant," Hermione said, looking purposely at all of the people around them.

"Why exactly are we eating here again? Why not in a, oh, I don't know, wizard restaurant?"

"Would you like people swarming all over you when you're trying to have a simple lunch with your friends?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course! I loved all of that publicity stuff."

"Then maybe you should get a job so that people can swarm you at _your_ house," Harry said.

"You sound like my mother," Ron grumbled.

"Good," Harry responded, causing Hermione to giggle.

"So how are things with you and Ginny?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

Harry beamed. "Absolutely brilliant. I'm thinking about asking her-"

"To do my laundry? Thanks, mate," Ron interrupted.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kicked him under the table. "Ron-"

"I know, Hermione. I was kidding." Ron grinned at her, reaching across the table to pat her hand. His fingers lingered longer than necessary before Hermione pulled away.

Harry didn't miss it. "Well," He continued suspiciously, "I was thinking of proposing."

Hermione squealed. "Oh my goodness! You have to! You two are absolutely adorable together! This is so fantastic! When are you thinking of doing it? _Where_ are you thinking of doing it? It has to be absolutely romantic-"

"Well, I haven't really put much that much thought into it," Harry said sheepishly. "Am I supposed to ask her somewhere special? I thought I would just do it when the moment felt right."

Hermione smiled. "Even better! That way the mood is just perfect. Oh, Ginny's going to be so happy! I'm so excited for both of you!"

"Congrats, Harry," Ron added, slapping Harry on the back. "I'm happy for you." Ron stood up, towering over them. "Well, I have to take a dump. I'll see you in a while."

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "That's disgusting, Ronald."

"It's a bodily function," Ron replied, walking to the restroom.

Harry immediately turned to Hermione when Ron was out of earshot. "So, are you and Ron-?"

"No," Hermione answered, a little too forcefully.

Harry nodded, obviously not believing her. "Okay, whatever you say."

"I'm serious, Harry. Yeah, I used to like him, but I feel like he still thinks he's seventeen. He doesn't think about his future or what he wants to do. I want someone who can stand on their own."

"I believe you," Harry said honestly. "How are things with Malfoy? Is he giving you a hard time?"

Because Harry was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he was one of the very few people who actually knew her "mission". Technically he was her boss, so it seemed natural that he would be asking her about her assignment.

Hermione made a noise of disgust. "Of course he is. He's exactly the same as he was at Hogwarts; cocky, arrogant and rude. He'll scream at you, demand a sandwich, call you a wide variety of names, and then repeat the process in thirty seconds. I hate him, I hate the assignment, and I hate the fact that I have to live there."

Harry grimaced "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I know he's a pain in the ass."

"You've got that right. Did you know he can't feed himself? That's why they have a housemaid. They've never learned. Narcissa's nice enough, but Malfoy's a bastard to her."

Harry sighed. "I'm really sorry. Have you gotten any names regarding missing Death Eaters yet?"

Hermione groaned. "Of course not. He calls me a Mudblood left and right. I hardly think he would just exclaim his sudden desire for friendship and spill his secrets that he's been keeping for three years."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "You're the best person I know at this sort of thing."

"What? Lying and deceiving others to get what I want?" Hermione asked, snorting.

Harry gripped her hand reassuringly. "Sacrificing your comfort for a greater cause."

Hermione sighed. "I guess you're right, Harry. Thanks for listening to me rant. I really appreciate it."

Harry grinned. "You're the best person for this job, Hermione. I have all the confidence of the world in you."

"That doesn't even make sense," Hermione said, laughing.

"What doesn't make sense?" Ron asked, sitting in his seat again.

"The fact that you're still single. You're just _such_ a ladies man, Ronald. It's quite shocking," Hermione teased.

"I don't know," Ron answered, not realizing that Hermione was joking. "I guess I'm just waiting for the right girl." At the last words, Ron met Hermione's eyes causing she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"So, I hear that you overfed my darling kitty?" Hermione asked, swiftly changing the subject.

It was Ron's turn to fidget. "Well, you told me not to starve him, so I poured the whole bag of food into his bowl. He ended up eating it in one sitting."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "One cup per meal, Ronald. How many times have you seen me feed him?"

"Well, we all know that Ron is the dullest wizard of our age," Harry joked, punching Ron in the arm.

"And we all know Harry's the annoying wizard of our age," Ron answered, punching Harry back.

_That would be Malfoy,_ Hermione thought to herself.

"It's nice to be with you ego-maniacs again," Hermione said affectionately.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco opened his eyes and rolled over, groaning. He listened carefully and couldn't hear anyone, surprising. He figured the Mudblood would be spying him or something of the like.

Draco stretched, pulled on a pair of soccer shorts and a long-sleeve cotton shirt, and walked into his weight room. He spent the next hour and a half working every muscle in his body. By the time he was finished, he was drenched in sweat and was hungry enough to eat a hippogriff- not that he was ever going around one again.

"Mudblood!" He shouted, walking into the kitchen. No one was in there. In fact, it looked like no one _had_ been in there. "Mudblood! Where the fuck are you?" Draco barked, walking through the Manor. No one was answering. "GRANGER!" Draco bellowed, listening to his voice echo throughout the halls.

"Would you keep your voice down?" His mother's voice behind him snapped. "It's noon and you're already giving me a migraine."

"Where is she?" Draco growled, glaring at his mother. "Did she leave?"

"Today's her day off. She's probably with her friends."

"Potter and Weasley, huh?" Draco said slowly. "Figures. She _would_ want to see Weasely. They've obviously got a thing. They always have."

"Why would that matter?" His mother asked, confused.

"It doesn't," Draco rushed out quickly. "It doesn't matter."

"Draco, it's okay-"

"Bye, Mother." Draco turned away and walked back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and found half of a tomato and a nearly empty carton of milk. Shutting the door, he turned around and looked at the pantry. He found a box of something he didn't recognize, and he sighed, turning away. A note on the counter caught his eye. Furrowing his eyebrow, he picked it up, surprised at how he missed it.

**Malfoy,**

**In case your mother hasn't told you, I'm not here today, because, unlike you, I actually have a life. **

**If you're hungry, which you obviously will be, there's cereal in the pantry. It's muggle food, so if your Malfoy genes don't allow you to eat it, then you'll have to wait.**

**Instructions:**

**Get bowl, Milk, and Cereal**

**Pour Cereal in bowl**

**Pour Milk in bowl**

**Use spoon and eat.**

**Hope this isn't too complicated for the Almighty Malfoy. Don't miss me much when I'm gone.**

**The Housemaid**

Draco stared at the note, grinding his teeth together. His stomach growled and he reluctantly poured himself a bowl of the muggle cereal. He stared at the note as he ate, his eyes slightly narrowed. When he finished, he levitated the bowl into the sink and picked up the note again, rereading it.

He could tell it was Granger who wrote it. The handwriting was neat, it was to the point, and it insulted his intelligence. Just like Granger. Hell, it even smelled like her. Scowling, Draco left to wait in the living room, ready to pounce as soon as she returned.

Before he left, he pocketed the note.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"What the hell is this?" Ron asked, staring at the huge screen of building in front of him.

"It's a movie theater," Harry said, pulling Ron behind him.

"We're going to watch a movie. It's what muggle friends sometimes do." Hermione said, paying for the tickets.

"Why don't we just play Quidditch?" Ron muttered as they ushered him inside.

Hermione led them into their theater, and they sat down in seats. The previews were already starting, and Hermione sighed because she hated being late to anything. "Because we want to just have a normal day with each other, Ronald."

Ron sniffed the air repulsively. "It smells like grease."

Harry grinned. "That's from the popcorn, Ron."

The lights dimmed down completely and the movie started. "Shut up," Hermione whispered.

"Why? Are Death Eaters swooping in?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"People want to listen to the movie," Harry whispered.

"I'm not stopping them!" Ron said, his voice too loud.

"Oye! You with the clown hair! Shut up and let us watch!" A voice from above them shouted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Bloody extremist," He muttered before falling silent and watching the movie.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Two and a half hours later, they blinked rapidly as they stepped into the sunlight.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked a little groggily.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Six. I have a date with Ginny at six-thirty, so-"

"Then what are you doing here? Go and get ready!" Hermione said, smiling.

Harry grinned, and then gave her a quick hug. After giving a "man-hug" to Ron, he Disapperated.

"So, now what?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione. Hermione shrugged, feeling the awkward feeling she was getting growing larger by every second. "You and I could go on a date," He suggested, looking at her shyly.

Hermione's heart dropped and she looked away. "I have to go, as well."

"Oh, okay," He replied glumly.

Feeling her heartstrings pull for him, she reached over and planted a quick peck on his cheek. "It was nice seeing you, Ron," She said before Disapperating.

She appeared in front of a grocery store and pulled out a list she had made earlier. Sighing, she went in and spent the next half hour getting food for the Malfoys. She paid with money that would later be replenished by said Malfoy's, then walked back outside, groaning at the thought of having to go back to Malfoy and his issues.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco glared at the front door, waiting for the Mudblood to come in. He knew it was getting close to dinner, and he knew that Granger wouldn't be late for cooking. He was, of course, more important that her other friends.

Draco gagged at the though of Weasley. The incompetent fool. Nine times out of ten Weasley would fluster up during an argument and Potter or Granger would speak for him. The other time he would utter a cliché comeback that Draco used when he was nine.

Draco rolled his eyes. No doubt the Mudblood was probably making out with him. What she saw in him, he had no idea. Weasley was stupid, ugly, and a pain in the ass. At least Granger was smart enough to hold her own in an argument.

He remembered how wishy-washy Pansy was. Clingy, pathetic and needy she was. The only reason why Draco even thought of dating her was the fact that she wanted him to shag her, and it was an unbelievable stress reliever.

Granger was not pathetic, clingy, nor needy, and it annoyed the hell out of him. He was used to shallow girls, not unpredictable ones. How did Weasely manage her? When he thought she was bluffing, she wasn't. When he thought she was going to slap him, she spoke to him calmly. What was with her? Did she purposely act like this just to confuse him?

The front door banged open and Granger walked in, levitating bags of groceries behind Draco.

"Could you shut the door?" She asked, walked past him and hitting him in the head with a grocery bag. "Sorry."

Draco ignored her. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked, glaring at her.

"Oh, I don't know Draco. I'd say the grocery store, but since you're so brilliant, why don't you tell me."

"What so you went shopping for groceries all day on your day off? And I thought _I_ didn't have a life."

"I asked you to shut the door," Granger said, setting the groceries on the floor and closing the door.

"And I asked you where you were," Draco countered.

"Why do you care?"

"I've been starving all day."

Granger levitated the groceries and walked into the kitchen. "There was cereal. I even gave you instructions for how to eat it."

"It was horrible."

"So are you," She replied, flicking her wand and sending the groceries to put themselves away.

"Why don't you soak you head," Draco growled.

"What's your problem?" Granger snapped, whirling around and facing him. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his face. It smelled like peppermint and Draco felt unwanted goose bumps rise on his arms. "You're like a bitter old man. What, I'm not allowed to see my friends? It's not like you enjoy my company."

Draco smirked. "Ooh, looks like Granger has an attitude. What, I suppose you're going to kiss me now, like in those stupid romance novels?"

Granger's nose wrinkled up in disgust. "I'd kiss Voldemort before I'd kiss you."

His smirk widened. "Deny it all you want. I know you're panting for all of this," Draco said, gesturing to himself.

Granger smiled sarcastically. "How did you know?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"It's just a feeling I had. It's quite disgusting, having a Mudblood lust for you."

"Oh, I'm sure. Why don't you call Pansy and relieve the obvious sexual tension you have right now."

Draco froze. "_What_ did you just say?" He growled.

"There's cereal in the pantry," Granger said, smiling innocently. "'Night, Malfoy." With that she sauntered off, leaving Draco staring, mouth agape, after her.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Thanks for reading! Please review!

Special thanks to **ashley4948, Musette Fujiwara, **and **Gaaracrazy** for reviewing.


	6. Chapter 6: Evasion

**Chapter 6: Evasion**

.

* * *

><p>Draco lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. <em>Sexual tension?<em> Granger thought he had sexual tension? He probably did have some, but not for her. He would never, _could_ never feel that way for her. Stupid Mudblood.

Sighing, Draco rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing all thoughts of sexual tension out of his brain.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_''Your name," A cold voice said, and a sixteen year old Draco felt goose bumps rise on his arms. He immediately recognized this as _the_ dream. It was his worst nightmare, and he had it often. _

_ He was in a huge dark room, the only light coming from the full moon peeking through the windows. A man stood in the center of the room, his face shadowed from the light._

_ Draco stared at the man, fear churning in his stomach. Lord Voldemort was standing in front of him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy."_

_ "Your business?"_

_ "I wish to become a Death Eater, my Lord," Draco answered, kneeling down on his knee like his father told him to._

_ "Why is this?"_

"_I wish to restore my family's name," Draco said, rehearsing what his father had told him to say._

"_That is all?"_

"_I wish to serve my Lord in any way he desires," Draco said, not looking at the man's face._

_What the _HELL_ was Draco doing here? He didn't want to be a Death Eater. He didn't exactly want to join the Order of the Phoenix, but the idea of being a Death Eater scared the shit out of him._

"_I'm very surprised that you are here, Draco. I figured your father wouldn't want you to disrespect the family name more than he did."_

_Ouch. "What my father did does not concern me. I wish to serve my Lord, not because of my father, but because it's who I'm supposed to be." Yeah, right._

"_Draco, what your father_ did_ concerns you." Voldemort paused. "I have a mission for you. If you cannot complete it, I will kill you and your family. Is this understood?"_

_Holy shit. "Yes, my Lord." Draco did not allowed his voice to waver._

"_I want you to kill Dumbledore."_

_Fuck. He was going to die. He was going to go to hell. Fuck. "It will be done, my Lord."_

_Voldemort stepped out of the shadow, the light shining on his face. A smile slowly creeped onto his face, and Draco felt shivers crawl down his face. "Perfect," He purred, pulling out his wand._

_Draco's heart sped up. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Ohhhh, shit. His facial expression didn't change. "What are you doing my Lord?" _

"_I am giving you your Dark Mark," Voldemort said, his smile wavering. "Your arm, Draco."_

_Draco took a deep breath and bared his left wrist to Voldemort. The creepy smile still on his face, Voldemort gripped it._

Help!_ Draco screamed in his head. _Fuck, someone help me!

"_Avada Kedavra!" Draco heard behind him, and Voldemort crumpled to the ground._

_Draco's eyes widened and he exhaled sharply at the change in the dream. Normally, Voldemort gave him the Dark Mark and he woke up. No one killed Voldemort._

_Whoever had killed Voldemort would definitely kill him. "Fuck," Draco breathed as he plopped on the ground and buried his head in his hands. He heard footsteps walk toward him and saw that the person knelt next to him._

"_You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Draco asked, looking up but not at his 'savior'._

"_No."_

_Draco's eyes widened at the voice and he turned to stare at the person. "_Granger?_"_

_._

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

Draco burst awake, breathing heavy and completely drenched in sweat. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and then stared blankly at the wall. He scrambled over to his dresser, pulling out the blade. He stared at it, hearing her voice repeat over and over in his head. "Fuck."

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><p>.<p>

Hermione woke up and rolled over in her bed, groaning. Sighing at the shitty situation she was in, she stood and rubbed her neck. No doubt Draco was going to hammer her hard. His facial expression last night had been horrified, and Draco never got horrified. She was going to have to pay for making him feel something he never felt.

She simply pulled a robe over her flannel pants and shirt, and then walked into the kitchen. She pulled out all the ingredients for omeletes, and then starting frying them together. Her mother made the best omeletes in the world, and though she got close, she never matched her mother's cooking capability.

Suddenly, someone stormed into the kitchen and glared at her. "What the hell?" Malfoy asked, glaring at her.

Hermione's expression didn't change- she had been expecting for him to come. "What are you babbling about this time?" She asked, exasperation strong in her voice.

Malfoy's expression could have killed. "What did you mean by-"

Hermione gagged. "God, your breath smells like Crookshanks's litter box. Did you even think about brushing your teeth, or is that just not on your radar?"

"You're avoiding-"

"I'm making omeletes. They're going to be very delicious." Hermione gestured to the plates behind her, smiling on the inside. It was just so much fun, making Malfoy angry.

"Fucking hell, Granger-"

"How'd you sleep?"

Malfoy froze. He stared at her intently, and it felt like he was looking into her. She couldn't break away his intense stare. It was absolutely silent, so when he spoke it seemed deafening.

"Terribly."

"Sucks for you." Hermione turned back to her omeletes. She had already set them on their plates. Turning back around, she reached to hand him one. He didn't take it.

"And it's all your fault."

She raised an eyebrow. "How did you get to this reasoning?" She asked, amused.

Malfoy looked exasperated, which was completely surprising. "You brought up sexual tension."

She was absolutely confused. "So?"

"Well, did you mean…" He trailed off, looking away. His nose was wrinkled slightly. "Did you mean-"

"I meant the fact that you haven't seen any girl in three years. That's gotta be killer for someone who was 'in the game,' so to speak."

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Aw, fuck. He had jumped to his own conclusions about what she saw between them, and he'd been _wrong_. "It is killer. Especially when the only girl you've seen in all those three years is a filthy Mudblood."

Granger grinned. "The more you use that word, the less it stings. It doesn't even affect me anymore."

Draco smirked. "That word should affect you because you are one. I don't care if I've repeatedly called you one all these years, it still should hurt. Because it doesn't sting, it just proves that you're one odd person."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can you seriously tell me what's so bad about muggle-borns?"

"They're a hazard to the wizarding world."

"How is that? Do we murder everyone or something?"

"No, you're too weak for that."

"So, what? Is it a biological difference or something?"

"No, it's just because you've got muggle blood. It's always been that way and it always will."

"Give me a specific reason why."

"Well, you're-" Draco paused, scrambling for an answer inside his head. "You're all just filthy-"

"Do I look filthy?"

"I…" Draco trailed off, deciding to just glare at her.

"The only reason you hate me is because your daddy told you to. To be honest, the only reason I hate you is because I've been told that you're cruel and selfish."

"For fuck's sake, Granger!" Draco spat. "That's not the only reason why I hate you! I hate you because you're a know-it-all, teacher's pet, annoyingly smart person who my father compared me to all of my life!"

Jesus Christ, did he have to say all of that? Why didn't he just write his personal life out into a book for her to read?

Granger was staring at him, wide eyed. "Stop staring at me like that, Granger. I'm not a child who dropped his ice cream cone."

"Did your father really do that?" She asked softly.

"No, I just said it to say it," Draco said sarcastically, deftly avoiding her question.

"Malfoy, I'm-"

"Granger, I don't need your sympathy."

"But-"

"Fuck off." Draco grabbed the plate out of her outstretched hand, and then walked out of the kitchen.

"Malfoy," She called after him, following him and grabbing his arm.

Draco closed his eyes in frustration and took deep breaths. "Let go of me."

"I'm sorry. For everything. I've been really mean to you."

"Granger, I don't want an apology," He grumbled rolling his eyes. "Don't expect one from me."

"I don't. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and that I won't be acting like I was anymore."

"Giving up so early?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Be a bastard to me, I don't care. I'm just not stooping to your level," She retorted.

Draco didn't say anything- he just stared at her with a curious look in his eye. There was something… different about her, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She asked with a bewildered look.

"No reason."

"When people say 'no reason,' there's always a reason. Fess up."

"It's not important," He replied, his voice indifferent.

"But-"

"How does it feel to be a Mudblood?" Draco asked suddenly, obviously throwing Granger off.

She looked at him questioningly. "Gee, personal much?" When he didn't respond, she continued talking. "God, Malfoy, it's like you're asking if I was a Nazi."

"What the hell is that?"

"Never mind. I don't think I _feel_ any different than you do."

"Oh."

"What, did you expect that I would have an uncontrollable urge to murder babies? I'm not a serial killer, Malfoy."

"That's definitely what I expected," Draco answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're acting real weird today." She had been looking into his eyes for so long that she noticed they weren't entirely gray like she originally thought. They had tiny flecks of blue in them that accented the gray perfectly. They were actually quite beautiful.

Malfoy shrugged. "Guess I didn't sleep much," He said purposely.

"Yeah, I know. My fault."

"What would you do if you saw someone swearing allegiance with Voldemort?" He asked suddenly, throwing her off.

"Um," She began, surprised. "I don't know."

"Would you kill them?" His voice sounded bored, but there was an unidentifiable tone to it.

"No," Hermione rushed out, surprising herself. She found it was true. "I wouldn't. I'd see what their reasoning was first. I'm sure there was plenty of insecure followers of Voldemort."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You're one hell of a housemaid, Granger."

Hermione grinned. "If you remember correctly, I used to fight."

Malfoy scowled. "I didn't. I was too scared to do anything. Couldn't kill Dumbledore, couldn't fight my father enough to make my own choices. I was a fucking baby. If I had the chance to go back in time, I would have a shitload of things to change. My life sucks, Granger, and I have to deal with it."

Hermione's eyes widened at his monologue. "I…. that's probably the most I've ever hear out of you."

Malfoy's scowl changed into a smirk. "Don't get used to it." He leaned against the wall.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "This is usually when you storm off in an exaggerated exit."

Malfoy laughed, shocking Hermione. It was short-lived and a smirk immediately replaced it, but it was the most surprising thing to see on Malfoy. "That would be you. _You're _the one who storms off with some comment about food."

"Well, since that's really all we talk about, I think I'm justified."

"What's funny is the fact that you're not even denying it."

"I'm justified! Seriously, why are you here? You've had food, insulted me, and then completely confused me. What else is on your checklist?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "My God, you're pushy Granger." Hermione stared at him thoughtfully, and Malfoy shifted his weight. "Why are you looking me like that?"

"You should laugh more. It makes you look…" She trailed off. "I don't know." She started walking off in the opposite direction.

"That doesn't make sense, Granger!" She heard him calling from behind her.

"Nothing does anymore," She murmured to herself.

* * *

><p><strong>An: **Well, shit. I know it's been FOREVER since I last posted. But, I had both marching band (9 hours a day) and there was a technical difficulty with my beta-reader. Stupid docx delivery glitches. Grr.

But, to be honest, my feelings were kinda hurt. One person added me to their story alert. :( And, I was noticing with the traffic stats thing (love that, by the way) that sometimes someone would stop reading after, like a chapter. Aww! D:

I promise that Draco and Hermione WILL start to get REAAAALLY close to eachother! You know what I mean... And that it will happen soonish!

I'm going to try to update soon, but there's still marching band and I'm going to have five hours of homework a night. So...

OH! And I have story recommendations. They're brilliant! If you don't read this, then read them, because these are what inspire me to right!

In no particular order:

_Isolation_ by Bex-Chan

_Hunted_ by Bex-Chan

_Turncoat_ by elizaye

_Devil's Deal_ by LA DIABLESA

This last one isn't Dramione but it's brilliant! Lily and James time period

_Shift _by EasyAsFallingAsleep

so, PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. You can tell me that my writing is a terrible piece of crap and that I should pick up welding, but I'll still love you for reviewing! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry, guys.**

**I've completely lost inspiration on this. (Few people actually read it, though, so I'm not that concerned.)**

**I'm really sorry!**

**I plan to make a new profile. You won't know it's me!**

**New story, possibly even new book.**

**Yikes. Hate for any dissapointment that you may recieve!**

**Until next time!**

**(If you find my new profile... like i said, you won't know it's me.)**

**Live long, live strong!**

**I love you guys who reviewed!**

**Bowie Legacy**


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